Captain Amish
by wineandwhiskey
Summary: "I figured out the truth, the reason why you don't fit in perfectly, and you struggle to understand technology and pop references, it's alright" Steve started panicking. "You're Amish" she declared. Steve relaxed, "Something like that" Because Cap needs love. How will his new best girl react when she learns how wrong she was and who Steve really is. Pre-Avengers through WS.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hello lovely readers. I am so excited to finally be publishing this story! I've been playing around with the idea of posting a story on here for awhile. I was working on a Loki/OC fic, but then my laptop died and I forgot where I was going with it. I may go back to it someday, who knows. But this will be even better. Our poor Cap needs a lady, as Natasha has been stressing. I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1: Time, Trains and Tea

Steve Rogers sat dejectedly on the train seat. He had spent the entire day riding the rail aimlessly, having nowhere to go and no one to see. He leaned back in the filthy, uncomfortable seat and let out a small sigh.

It had been three weeks since he had been thawed from the ice, and he still was unable to come to terms with the direction his life had taken. He remembered paying the ultimate price in World War II to prevent Schmidt from harming millions of people. He was scared, but he had made his peace with his decision. His compass was open showing Peggy's picture as he fell to his demise. The last thing he remembered was her soothing voice before he blacked out.

When he awoke next, he was disoriented. It was dark and opening his eyes was difficult. It was dead silent except for the faint background noise of the radio playing.

_"I must have survived" _he though._ 'They must have found me'_

Steve was overjoyed. He was alive after all, and he would be able to keep his promise to take Peggy dancing. After everything that had happened, he had a chance at a normal life with an amazing, beautiful woman.

The noise from the radio interrupted his thoughts and seemed to get louder and louder as the plays were called.

_'They sound vaguely familiar' _he though. _'This is why I could never get into sports no matter how much Bucky obsessed over them. It seems one game is the same as the next.' _

The announcer's voice grew more exited and enthusiastic as he announced one of the player's grand slam.

Wait a minute...

Shock ran through his system as he recognized the game from 1941. Eyes opening widely, he jumped up and looked around the room. It looked like a normal hospital recovery room, but Steve wasn't fooled. Even the familiar feel of his army shirt didn't help calm him. Something wasn't right, he just didn't know what.

A nurse walked in the room, and he wasted no time flipping out.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

"You're in a recovery room in New York." she said with a hint of nervousness that Steve didn't miss.

"That game on the radio. That was from 1941. I know, I was there." he took a deep breath trying to calm himself down. "Now I'm gonna ask you one more time, where am I?"

Figures in black come into the room and Steve starts running. He breaks down the wall of the fake hospital room and realizes he is in some type of headquarters. Of course Hydra comes to mind, and he believes he's been captured. Scared for his life, he runs like hell past the people in weird clothes dodging the men chasing after him. He keeps running and reaches the streets of New York City. He looks around in shock, as he is surrounded by men toting guns. A black man dressed in a leather coat walks over to the scene."At ease!" he demands.

The men lower the weapons and their leader speaks. His name is Fury, and he gives Steve the most devastating news of his life.

"You've been asleep Cap, for almost seventy years"

The sentence hit Steve like a bucket of cold water. He just stood in the middle of the street staring off into the distance.

"You going to be okay" Fury asks, concern creeping into his voice.

_'Okay?' _Steve thought angrily. _'How could I possibly be okay? Seventy years. Seventy years! How was that possible? How did that happen? His friends, his navy buddies, Peggy, what happened to them?'_

Steve had been through a lot in his life. He was bullied from a young age, orphaned as a young adult, and single since he was born. But in that moment, he had never felt so helpless and alone.

Steve was angry, This modern city disgusted him with all its gaudy lights, foul smelling automobiles, and deceitful people he had interacted with. He had no idea how to cope with this new time where everything was unfamiliar and unpleasant to him. There were no soda parlors, no sock hops, hell not even a telephone booth could be found in this modern city. Sadly he felt trapped in crowds of strange people without one friendly face.

His friends had continued to live their lives after the war. They had careers, raised families, and he had missed it all. SHIELD had given him files of his war buddies and Peggy. All of his Howling Commandos were dead, Bucky had died before he went under. Even that annoying Stark was dead. Steve and him didn't get along the best, but he would take him back in a second. Anything to have a friend, or someone familiar, The only person alive was Peggy, but Steve couldn't bring himself to call her. What would he even say? She was in her early 90's now, with kids and grandchildren. There was no hope for a future with her now.

He leaned over putting his face in his palm. He wished he hadn't survived. He would have rather died in the ice rather than have to live in this unfamiliar world with no one. There was no place for him in this time period, and he had nothing to offer these modern people.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as someone sat in the seat facing opposite him.

"Hey, sre you okay?" the female voice asked.

He looked up and saw a young woman looking curiously at him.

"You look like you are going to be sick." she observed. "Not a big fan of trains?"

"I uhh. um" Steve didn't know how to respond.

The girl was undeterred by his silence. She twirled a lock of her long blonde hair through her fingers and continued. "I don't like trains either." she admitted. "This is only my fifth time on one actually. I never needed to take them down in North Carolina, and I just can't get used to them now. But cabs are expensive, and my car's in the shop right now. Damn carborator or something, I don't even know!" she exclaimed.

Steve looked at her as she rambled on. She was friendlier than most of the New Yorkers he had interacted with. Had a bit of a mouth on her though. She was dressed differently too. Unlike the usual city girl who wore jeans or obscenely short pants with name brand skimpy shirts she had on a knee length blue dress and short black heels. A pair of sunglasses were perched on her head.

A Starbucks cup that Steve hadn't noticed before was held out towards him. "Chamomile?" she asked. "It's a good stomach settler if you're feeling sick."

Steve stared at the unfamiliar beverage before shaking his head. "No thanks ma'am, my stomach's fine, I'm just having a bad day." he explained.

She shrugged and pulled the cup back, taking another sip. "New to the city?" she asked.

He though of the New York he used to live in and how drastically different it was now. "You could say that." he admitted.

"I figured that. You seem different."

Steve sighed internally. Would he even be able to pass for a modern person, or would he live as a recluse unable to even hold down a conversation with someone.

She took note of his silence and quickly backtracked. "Not in a bad way or anything!" she amended. "You just seem..I don't know...nicer, and less in a hurry like everyone else. These New York people rush around like they're constantly late for a deadline."

Steve noticed her different accent and tried to remember what state she mentioned during her ramblings. "Where did you say you were from?" Steve asked.

"North Carolina. I moved here temporarily for my law school internship. Kind of a long trip, but the guy offered to pay me, which is unheard of for college internships, so I went for it."

"That's swell." he replied.

She gave him an odd look and Steve suddenly felt discouraged. He decided to excuse himself from the conversation before he drew unwanted attention to himself. "Look ma'am.." he started.

"Hey don't worry, you'll find it." she assured him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your niche."

Now he gave her a quizzical look.

"In the city!" she elaborated. "I mean I was totally lost when I first came here. I didn't know anybody, and life is so different here than down south. Even when I used to live in Pennsylvania life wasn't the same. It's mostly suburbs" she looked at him. "Listen I know that look. I was you a month ago. Besides the internship I didn't know what to do with myself. Just get out there! Let people get to know you. You'll fit in here in no time." She smiled at him. "I'm Fiona by the way."

"Steve" he introduced himself. Steve still felt lost but this woman's kind words made him feel a little better. "I just..feel like I don't belong here." he admitted, thinking of all the people walking around seventy years his junior.

"I've been there, dude." she said.

_'Dude?' _he asked himself. He assumed it was a positive term and kept listening.

"Tell you what, I can help you get situated." She grabbed her large black purse off the floor and opened it digging for something. She pulled out a pen and receipt from Chipotle. She started writing on the back of it. "If you want someone to show you around the city, minus the commentary of course, I'm not a big history buff, feel free to give me a call." She smiled and handed him the receipt.

He looked down at it.

Fiona 444-444-4444

For the first time since he woke up he genuinely smiled. "Thank you ma'am."

She giggled. "Just Fiona is fine. You're so polite"

The train pulled to a stop.

"This is me" She said cheerfully. "Don't forget to call if you need some help adjusting to the city, or even just someone to talk to. Nobody should feel alone, in a big scary city. See you later Steve!" She took another sip of her tea, picked up her bag, and walked down the aisle.

After watching her retreating form, he stared down at the number in his hand. It was nice to see that there were still some decent people in this time period. The offer was sweet, but he knew he would not be calling her. He's never been good with women, and didn't want to be a burden to her. It was doubtful he would ever adjust to this modern lifestyle anyways. Even in that short conversation there was a bit of a language barrier. He did not understand what a dude was and he was sure he had used some outdated terms. Regardless of what the nice girl believed, he would never be able to belong anywhere again. It just wasn't possible. He glanced down at the receipt one last time before folding it and tucking it into his wallet. He didn't plan on ever seeing Fiona again but he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

Although Steve should have learned by now that things don't always go exactly according to plan.

**A/N Yay chapter one is finished. We'll learn more about Fiona in the next few may not be looking for anyone right now but fate has other plans for him. Chapter 2 will be a lot more dramatic...in a good way, I promise. Introduction chapters are always a bit calm. **


	2. You're not in Kansas anymore Toto

Chapter 2: You're not in Kansas anymore Toto

Fiona cruises down the highway with her windows open, singing along to her Lana Del Rey CD as her hair blows around her face from the wind. She takes a sip of her latte as she watches the road. A few weeks in the city and she still hasn't adjusted to the abundance of traffic. At least the highway offers a small break from the backup due to the lack of stoplights and crosswalks. Pedestrians rule the road in the city, and dozens of them will swarm into the road, cutting right in front of cars. A few times she was forced to slam on her breaks to avoid decorating her windshield with them.

Although she shouldn't be complaining that much. Her car had finally been fixed, at a price that broke her bank. The grease ball mechanic was a shyster and had no problem screwing her over. Idiots like him made her miss the southern kindness of her old state. Old Billy would have fixed her car for a reasonable price. He always gave discounts to the college students. It seemed few people around here had any concern for anyone but themselves. Fiona was having a hard time adjusting to that, expecting the shop owners to be friendly like the townspeople back home.

She gazed out her window at the woods off to the side of the highway, surprised that any trees had managed to survive the expansion of New York's concrete jungle.

She continued driving down the road and spotted an old beater pulled into the breakdown lane.

_'Someone's having a bad day'_ she thought.

As she pulled closer she saw a man looking quizzically at the hood of his car. As he heard her approach he turned to her smiling and folded his hands in a pleading gesture. She giggled and decided she could spare a few minutes to give this man a ride. She didn't have to be anywhere for a few hours, and she couldn't leave him to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere. She pulled next to him and got out of the truck smiling.

"Car troubles?" she asks, closing her door.

"Yeah of all the worst luck." the man sighed. "It's been a rough day as it is." He walks over and pops the hood open, looking inside curiously.

Fiona remembered how her repairman had forgotten his tools in her trunk, and she'd been so angry at his rudeness she hadn't brought them back to him. "Hold on" she said walking over to her trunk. "I think I have a few tools back here."

She pops her trunk and shuffles through the tools, grabbing anything she thinks might be useful. She finds an unfamiliar tool and thinks the stranger may know what it is. She looks up "Hey..." she trails off seeing him digging through her purse through the back window.

She rushes over to the driver's door. "What are you doing?" she asks him.

"Just seeing if you had a cell phone in here, wanted to call for help." he reasoned.

Fiona did not feel good about this at all. She felt panic creep into her veins as her heart started pounding rapidly. "Look I'm running a little late so I should.."

He reaches into his pocket and snaps open a switchblade. "Get in the trunk." he demands. "We're going to take a little ride."

Her eyes widen and she bolts in the opposite direction. "Hey where are you going?" the man asks chasing after her.

Fiona runs across the highway looking for passing cars but finding none. She is literally in the middle of nowhere, and the traffic she usually complains about is nonexistent. She is all alone, and has no idea how to escape. The man is gaining speed and she runs into the woods, hoping to lose him amongst the trees. Her legs ache and her lungs are burning but she knows she has no choice but to keep running. She has no idea what this man will do to her if he catches up. Did his car even break down, or was all this a trap?

All things considered, she was actually doing a great job of running in heels. Even Tabatha Coffey would be impressed by her balance and coordination in the stilts. Panting, she weaves through the trees, desperately trying to lose her assailant. Unfortunately she's been running too fast for her body to keep up, and she trips over her own feet falling into the grass.

The man comes up to her turning her onto her back and holding the blade to her throat.

"You shouldn't have tried doing that." he scolded. "Now I'm going to have to punish you."

Fiona squeezes her eyes shut, tears slipping down her face as she braces herself.

Nothing ever happened though and suddenly she feels the man being wrenched off of her.

Steve donned a pair of sweatpants and an active wear shirt he had found at Target. He was still struggling to adapt to modern fashion, and had to be vigilant about his outfit choices in order to avoid embarrassing or drawing attention to himself. He didn't know what passed for workout clothes in this time period, but luckily Target had an entire section dedicated to it. He walked into the department and simply grabbed the first shirt he saw. It was made of a smooth and thin material which made it perfect for jogging. It would not stick to his chest as he sweated. He gawked at the twenty dollar price, but he was informed that was a reasonable amount for a shirt in this time period.

He resented the guidance from the SHIELD agents, and mostly refused their offered help, choosing to do things on his own. They meant well but they mothered over him and made him feel helpless, which he wasn't at all. He did accept their help on some things, because inevitably he had questions, but they were so businesslike, and detached. It felt like they weren't really concerned about him at all, and would rather be doing something else. He refrained from contacting them unless it was absolutely necessary, and tried figuring out whatever modern mystery he faced on his own. Fury respected his space, and informed the agents to back off and let him contact them for help. After a few failed attempts at trying to assimilate him he realize that Steve would come around when he was ready, and needed to adjust at his own pace.

He laced up his workout sneakers, and went out the door of his old fashioned apartment. He needed to clear his head, and running always helped calm him. He would go to the outskirts of the city and jog in the small wooded areas he could find, away from the abundance of modern things. In this time period everything was in your face; advertisements and store logos were plastered on buildings, and the flashing lights make them difficult to ignore. He passed by dozens of car showings and billboards on his walk out of the city. He found a small area of trees and broke into a run. The trees and grass reminded him of the war, when he and his Howling Commandos would trek through the forests observing the enemy, or setting camp for the night. The trees and bushes provided excellent camouflage, and they were as safe as they could possibly be in those situations.

He runs for around twenty minutes, and is disappointed to find that the woods end, and he comes out to a highway. He sighs and realizes it would be difficult to avoid the pavement and buildings without going out to New York State, but he just wasn't up for the trip there today.

Deciding to quit his run for the day he turns to walk back before noticing two cars parked in the distance. Looking around, he realizes they are the only two on this strip of highway. He steps out of the woods and starts to move closer in case they required assistance. One of the cars looked in rough shape, and the people were possibly stranded out here. The road scrapes under his shoes as he starts to approach the scene. On the other side of the cars he sees two figures standing across from each other.

Moving closer still, he struggles to hear their conversation with his super soldier hearing.

"...You doing?" a female voice squeaks. She is facing his direction but hasn't noticed him yet, completely focused on the man in front of her.

Steve finds something familiar about her, but that's practically impossible since everyone he knows is dead.

As he keeps walking, he eventually gets a closer look at her face and he suddenly recognizes her. It's that Fiona girl he met on the train a couple of weeks ago.

She takes a step back as the man pulls out a knife. "Get in the car." he growls. "We're going to take a little ride."

Fiona's eyes go wide as she tries to run away from him. She runs across the highway into the woods he has just came from.

"Where are you going?" the man demands chasing after her, waving the knife.

Steve squares his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he chases after the man. They're both far into the distance but he'll catch up to them no problem. They both disappear into the trees as Steve follows. He easily dodges the trees and branches in his way, even breaking one off just in case he needed a weapon. His Shield was god knows where, and being in the army taught him to always carry weapons, regardless of strength. It was imperative to be prepared for all possibilities.

He passes through a group of trees and sees Fiona trip and fall to the ground. The man wastes no time hovering over her, roughly turning her around. He puts the knife to her throat. "You shouldn't have done that." he taunted her." Now I have to punish you."

Steve rushes over, grabbing the man, and throwing him to the ground.

"What the hell man." he complains, rubbing his shoulder.

Steve angrily punches him square across the face, knocking him unconscious. The cops can deal with his sorry ass.

"Are you okay?" he asks Fiona, extending a hand to help her up.

"Ye..yeah." she responds placing her shaking hand in his.

He pulls her up taking note of her shaking body. "I'm glad you're alright ma'am, what exactly happened?"

Fiona struggles to take even breaths. "I..I was driving along and he..was...stuck on the side of the road, and he pleaded with me to..pull over and help him. I figured it would be fine." she gasps for breath. "We all used to pick up hitchhiker backs home." she finished her voice climbing a few octaves.

He sighs and looks at her sympathetically. She wasn't used to city life, and needed to be more careful. "That may have been alright before ma'am, but this is a dangerous city and you need to be careful around here." Steve informed her. "The people are not the same as they are down in the south."

She chokes out a laugh. "I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore Toto."

Steve laughed. _'I understand that reference!'_ he though.

"And I thought I told you to call me Fiona." she reminded him. "You do remember me right."

"Yes." Steve smiled. "From the train."

"Yup, that was me. By the way you never called." she waved her finger at him shaking her head.

I didn't want to be an inconvenience." Steve said sheepishly.

"Inconvenience?" she looked incredulous. "Nah dude, and I don't know too many inconveniences that save your life."

There was that dude word again. He wished he could ask her what that meant, but was worried about what her reaction would be. That was obviously a common word now.

He observed her tear stained face ad quivering lip and thought maybe he should keep an eye on her. She seemed to get herself in trouble. It would probably be good to have at least one friend, especially if she was so insistent about it.

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?" he asked. That was simple enough. He could calm her down and they could talk a bit.

"Umm." she hesitated.

Steve sighed internally. What an idiot he was. Fiona was obviously just being nice, and didn't really want to hang around him.

His self-pity was broken as she raised her shaking hand up. "How about ice cream. I think caffeine is the last thing I need right now." she said, gesturing to her hand for emphasis.

Steve smiled. "Ice cream would be swell." he answered, cringing internally as he remembered that word was outdated.

"Do you have a car?" she asked, looking through the woods back to the highway.

"No I ran here."

"Huh?" she looked confused.

"I jog through the woods sometimes, it helps clear my head." he explained.

"Oh, well we can take my car! It's not broken or anything. I just got it fixed actually." She looked down at her unconscious attacker. "What about him?" she asks.

"We'll call the police. Do you have a cellular telephone? He inquires.

"You don't?" she wrinkled her nose.

"No ma'am."

She shook her head and started walking. "Come on, I have one in my purse."

Steve followed the tiny girl, giving one last disgusted glance to the pig on the ground.

**A/N Anndddd fate brings them back together. I apologize if there are any formatting errors. I just got Windows 8 and it is frustrating me so much right now. But they only make laptops with them now, and I was forced to get a new one. And don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think, if you feel so inclined. **


	3. Frozen in Ice and Cream

**A/N Hey guys sorry for the long wait *dodges tomato* I've just been busy with work and grabbing every free minute to hang out with friends. But it seems to have slowed down for a couple of weeks and I haven't forgotten this story! Thank you to all the people who've reviewed/followed/favorite, you all give me motivation to continue this, since I know you all are waiting patiently..I hope**

**To guest reviewer: Yes poor Steve is confused by dude. Don't worry he will break down and ask a SHIELD agent what that means, or Tony depending on how long he waits.**

Frozen in Ice and Cream

Fiona and Steve entered the Ben and Jerry's shop on Fiona's insistence that life was too short to get anything except "the good stuff." Steve didn't see any difference from one brand to the next, and usually stuck to his tried and true vanilla. Still, he found himself dragged into the overpriced ice cream shop. The price wasn't a problem, since SHEILD furnished his bank accounts with enough money to live comfortably, but it killed him to spend five dollars on a small cup or cone, when he could find it much cheaper elsewhere. He doubted he would ever stop being conservative with money; living through the depression would have that effect on a person. Half the time Bucky and him didn't even know where their next meal would come from, never mind buying luxury items; yes no matter how strongly Fiona believed to the contrary, Ben and Jerry's was not a necessity. He would still be a gentleman and pay for her treat, but he internally cringed at how wasteful it was. Apparently wasting money was quite common nowadays. Had anyone ever heard of a savings account?

In the end he decided to go along with what she wanted. She seemed to have calmed down during the ride over, and he wanted to keep her that way. He had insisted on driving, even though she claimed she was ok. Her face was impressively calm, but her shaking gave her away. He felt horrible about what happened, and hoped to be a comforting presence. Thankfully modern cars were similar to the ones he used to drive during the war. The only real differences were appearance-wise.

Fiona placed her hands on the glass and looked down at the many flavors. Struggling to make a decision, she lifted her foot, tapping the floor with the tip of her shoe. She looked over at Steve "They have so many good flavors!" she sighed. "I like Phish Food the best, but I kind of want Chunky Monkey." she looked back at the case. "But Milk and Cookies looks good too." she whined.

Steve chuckled, amused at the difficulty she was having choosing a flavor.

The girl behind the counter was starting to look annoyed with them, so Steve decided to order first while she made up her mind. "I'll have a vanilla cone please." The shop girl nodded and went over to get an ice cream scoop and a cone. "Sugar or waffle?" she asked, in a dull monotone.

"Waffle please." he answered.

"Vanilla, really?" Fiona stared at him. "All these amazing flavors you could choose from, and you get the simplest one." she shook her head, gesturing to the all the different options.

"I like vanilla, it's good, and there's something to be said for simplicity." he defended his ice cream choice. There was no way he could stomach any of these candy filled flavors anyway, he was still feeling nauseas from seeing Fiona being threatened with that knife. She was so innocent, she should be nowhere near situations like that, it just wasn't right. That man was nothing more than a bully, willing to take god knows what for his own gain. The attack vaguely reminded Steve of his own altercations behind diners and alleyways. Bullies taking advantage of those weaker than them. Some things never changed, regardless of the passing of time, and it wasn't a positive thing so he was unable to take any comfort from it.

Fiona shrugged at his defense and looked at the glass for the third time. "I think I'm going to get Phish Food." she declared. "That's my favorite!"

The ice cream girl looked relieved and started scooping it. "Cone or cup?" she asked.

"Cup, please." Fiona answered. She turned to Steve "I've never had much luck with cones. The ice cream melts so fast, and you have to shovel it down before it melts all over you! Not fun." she pouted.

The girl held out her cup of ice cream. Fiona smiled and started to dig through her purse for the money. Steve stopped her. "I'll take care of it."

She looked up. "You don't have to. It was my idea to come here." she weakly protested.

He shook his head. "It's no trouble." he insisted, handing the money to the girl ignoring Fiona's protests.

Fiona took the ice cream from the girl. "Thank you." she told Steve sweetly.

"Don't mention it." Steve said. "Let's find a place to sit."

He led Fiona over to a table in the corner of the shop, stopping to pull her chair out.

"Damn you're so polite." she smiled at him. "Such a gentleman."

Steve blushed. "It's really no big deal."

She placed her oversized bad on the table, before realizing it created a huge barrier between them. Noticing this, she sheepishly tossed it onto one of the extra chairs.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked her for about the third time that day.

Fiona shrugged. "I'm fine, I've had worse anyway" she put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

Steve didn't know if she was lying to put him at ease, or if she had really experienced something worse. For his own sanity, he chose to believe the former. "It's okay to admit you're scared." Steve encouraged. "You don't have to pretend."

She sighed, putting her spoon down. "I'm just feeling like an idiot. Like you said, I should never have picked up a hitchhiker, this is the city! How dumb am I? I know I can't keep living like I would back home. Everything's so different here. No matter how much I think I've adjusted, I find myself slipping back into old habits."

Steve could relate to that more than anything. He had plenty of old habits, except for him they weren't even that old.

"The worst part is I almost died from my own stupidity." She continued. "Thank you, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there to get me out of that situation. I owe you a solid."

He shook his head. "I'm glad I was there to help. It makes me angry, people like that preying on the kindness of women. You also shouldn't be too hard on yourself for it, it's very easy to pick old habits back up without even realizing it."

He thought maybe he could bond with Fiona over their mutual situation without revealing too much information.

"Life seems so different now." He confided. "It's difficult to be in a place where there are so many changes and you have no idea what to do. I have no family or friends around, and feel like I'm on the outside looking in."

"So you moved away from home. Where did you grow up?" she asked.

Steve hesitated. '_What do I tell her_?' he thought. _'After all this I can't say I'm from Brooklyn, it's a half an hour away at most'_

He decided to be vague hoping she wouldn't press. "A very old fashioned place." He answered. "I don't like to talk about it."

Fiona nodded understandingly. He felt relieved until she started giggling and pointing. "What?" he asked nervously.

"Your ice cream is melting on your shirt." She said, covering her mouth with her hand.

He looked down and saw white drops all over his gray shirt. Embarrassed, he hastily grabbed a handful of napkins, and wiped furiously, trying to clean all the ice cream. Past or present, he was horrible around women and always seemed to make an embarrassment of himself. At this point he expected her to call him a slob, or some other horrible name and leave the shop laughing at how pathetic he was. It had happened more times than he cared to remember, whenever Bucky tried to set him up on dates. He eventually gave up on dating and women, until he met Peggy that is.

The sadness crept back up on him as he thought of Peggy. Luckily he wasn't able to remain in that state for long.

"Relax Steve its just ice cream." Fiona reasoned. "No need to look so upset, unless that's your favorite shirt or something. Then I could totally relate."

He snapped out of his funk and looked up at her, scrambling for an excuse. The shirt? Well I guess there were worse reasons he could say, she gave him an out might as well take it. "Yes this is my lucky shirt." he said lamely, mentally wanting to strangle himself.

To his surprise Fiona didn't scoff or snicker at him, and started once again rummaging through her bag, pulling out an orange stick that said 'Tide' When she handed it to him he gave her a blank look.

"For your shirt…" she said.

He looked at it like it was one of Howard Stark's contraptions.

"Don't tell me you've never used one before."

He shook his head, making her groan. She mumbled something about guys and hygiene as she took it from him. "You rub it over the stain, and it makes it disappear." She reached over grabbing the sticky part of his shirt, and started working on the stain. Steve blushed as he realized how close she was to him. Satisfied, she smoothed his shirt back down, before dabbing at one last drop, leaning her other hand against his chest for leverage.

"There." She said, looking up at him. The hand on his chest lingered for a minute, before she slowly moved it away, leaning back to sit in her chair.

They locked eyes for a moment, before she picked up her spoon and returned to her ice cream, nervously running her hand through her hair.

Steve got up and walked over to the trashcan, throwing his cone into the bin with disgust. He didn't want make a further embarrassment of himself by dribbling it all over his clothes like a four year old. Fiona watched him and gasped, covering her chest with her hand.

"You did not just throw away Ben and Jerry's, it's like a sin."

He chuckled at her dramatics. It was a simple ice cream cone, one she had made fun of earlier no less, and she was acting like it was the end of the world.

"I was done with it." He defended.

She shook her head. "No respect."

He sat back down and fought the urge to literally twiddle his thumbs. He was in an unfamiliar time period, sitting next to a pretty girl. His ability to come up with conversation topics was severely limited. Luckily Fiona didn't seem to have that problem.

"So what made you move to New York from…wherever?" she innocently asked.

He paused, unsure what to say. He was brought up on the belief that honesty was the best policy, and wasn't comfortable with lying. It was rare for him to utter an untruth, and the majority of the times he did was when he was filling out his enlistment forms, desperately trying to get into the army. He figured this situation was a bit similar to that. He was desperate to fit in, to salvage some kind of life in this new world. If he started talking about WWII and super serums, and Captain America she would undoubtedly get up and hastily retreat from the shop, possibly forgetting her precious ice cream in her rush. Not to mention Fury would be furious, and act like he was going around shouting about being Captain America from the rooftops. The huge "Welcome back Cap!" spread in the newspaper was bad enough, he didn't need any more attention brought onto him. SHIELD had tried to keep his resurrection under wraps, but there were always people who talked. They had been effectively silenced afterwards, but that didn't retract the huge photo of him being thawed from the archives. How anyone took a picture of that procedure he'll never know. So the public knew he was still alive, but luckily nobody really recognized him. There were still some die-hard Captain America fans out there, but they were few and far between. People these days were more concerned with the Justin Biber and the Karclarkians, or whatever those celebrities' names are. It was fortunate for him; if he was going to assimilate with these people, he wanted to do it as Steve, not Captain America.

He was jarred from his thoughts by Fiona. "Wellll..?" she questioned, still waiting for an answer.

He sighed, playing with a straw wrapper that somebody had left on the table. "I thought it would be a change from where I used to live. I just.." he broke off, staring at the wrapper like it held all the answers he sought.

Fiona reached across the table putting her hand on top of his. 'If it's difficult you don't have to talk about it." She reassured him. "I'm not exactly the type of person to spill my guts either."

He gave her a small smile. "Is that why you keep insisting you're fine, when we both know you're not?"

She looked down at the table. "I just..don't like knives ok. That's really all. I will be fine, eventually."

Steve really wanted to know more, but she didn't press him, so he would show her the same respect.

Fiona decided to lighten the mood and suddenly became cheery. "So what do you like to do for fun? Any hobbies?"

Remembering the monkey in the Captain America suit he answered "I like to draw."

Fiona's eyes lit up. "Cool! Another person with artistic talent. I have like five friends who are good artists. Four go to art school, and the other wants to go, but she's stuck at community college until she can get the money."

"I never took any classes." Steve said. "I can't even remember a time when I didn't draw." It was true. He remembered spending half his childhood bedridden from one illness or another, and he would find comfort in drawing things. There wasn't anything he couldn't draw, objects in the room, people, activities he wanted to do.

"Art school never made any sense to me." She laughed. "You can either draw or you can't, and if you can there's really no need to go to school for it you know. The people like me on the other hand who can't draw, those classes would be useless to us."

I'm sure you can draw." Steve encouraged. "The classes can help people hone their skills."

"What skills?" she asked with a laugh, reaching once again into her bag. She produced a pen, and grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table. She scribbled something on it and slapped it down next to him. "Look at my stick person." She giggled.

He looked at the napkin and saw a circle for a head, and five lines. One was straight for the body, and four were on angles to represent the person's limbs. She may not have been the world's best artist, but he liked it. There was just something so ..her about it.

"Can I keep this?" he asked her.

Fiona gave him an odd look before giggling. "Sure, although I'm not sure what you'd want it for. I guess it could be a funny coaster or something."

Steve went to pocket the napkin before she held out her hand to stop him. 'Wait!" she said, snatching it back. She scrawled a cursive _Fiona Evans_ on the napkin before handing it back. "In case I ever become famous for my artwork" she said with a snicker. "It's very much my talent."

Steve laughed, and a few tears of mirth almost fell from his eyes. "I'll draw you something." He offered.

"Trying to flaunt your skills in my face." She teased. "Just kidding, that'd be really cool. I'm amazed by people who can draw. You ever been to like an art workshop?"

"You mean a life drawing class?" Steve asked.

"Uh yeah those things." Fiona amended.

Steve remembered back in the 40's when he used to go to those classes. He would get so embarrassed from the nakedness of the models it would be hard for him to concentrate. "I've been to a few."

"We should totally go to one!" Fiona said excitedly. "I think they have some workshop things at the Y. No nude models or anything, but you can probably draw like buckets of fruit."

Steve smiled. "Yes, it would be nice to go with you."

"You can have more of my awful artwork. I'll even buy you a frame for this one!" she joked.

Finishing her ice cream, she stood up throwing the bowl into the trash. "Want a ride home?" she offered. "I'm okay to drive now, I promise."

He shook his head "I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience." He protested.

Fiona sighed. "Ugh if you call yourself that one more time, I swear! Get in the car bro." She walked over weakly pushing him towards the door.

"Yes ma'am." He relented. _"What is a bro?"_ he though. _"I am not her brother, so that short version of the word must mean something else._

When the pulled up to his apartment building she threw her arm over his shoulder for an awkward car hug. "Bye Steve, I'll look up those art workshops, text me tomorrow."

Steve stiffened at the hug and tried to hide his blush. "Yes, alright, thank you Fiona." He said, quickly getting out of the car and shutting the door.

As Fiona drove off and he walked up the steps to his apartment building, he realized he had to figure out what the hell a text was.


	4. Hashtag Clueless

**A/N Hi everyone! *hides behind pillar* Sorry this update's taken so long. I've been doing summer stuff. I'd like to give another big thanks to everyone who reviews, follows, and favorites this story. Not only do the email alerts brighten my day, but they also motivate me to get off my butt and write.**

**Guest #1 Haha poor Steve may have been given great looks, but he still has that inability to interact with women.**

**Guest#2 Thank you so much! I love to add humor to the story because humor makes everything better. And poor Steve had a bout of depression I'm sure. The deleted scene of him and the waitress really moved me, he's just sitting in the cafe with the saddest look on his face, and he's totally lost. If you haven't seen it you should check it out,it really adds depth to his character. It will be making an appearance in this story as well! **

Chapter 4: Hashtag Clueless

That was without a doubt the most embarrassing experience of his life.

Steve opened the door of the At&t store, and walked out with his head down, trying to hide the redness in his cheeks.

He realized he had to go and purchase a cellular telephone, or cell phone as most people call them, in order to contact Fiona. He first made the mistake of calling his regular phone company and asking how he could set up texting, and the saleswoman almost died laughing. As she gasped for air, she told him that you can only text with cell phones, and asked him how in the world he wasn't aware of that. After she resumed laughing, Steve realized that he wouldn't be getting anymore helpful information from her and hung up. Steve sat at his kitchen table with his palms covering his face and sighed. He was a complete laughingstock in this decade. People used to make fun of him for his scrawny appearance before he received the serum, but nobody had thought he was stupid. It wasn't a good feeling at all.

After he was done sitting there wallowing, he set out to find a store that sold cell phones. Pictures of them are plastered everywhere so they wouldn't be difficult to find. After passing a Pinkberry, and a few Dunkin Donuts restaurants, he noticed a store called AT&T advertising the newest iPhone. He shrugged and walked inside, instantly overwhelmed at the copious rows of devices. Luckily for him an eager salesman quickly approached him.

"Hello sir, how can I help you today?"

Steve looked around the store sheepishly. "Um..I'm looking for a cell phone."

The salesman wasted no time starting his sales pitch. "What kind of phone did you have in mind sir? We have the newest iPhone that just came out last month. Or if you're not an apple person we have several Android models."

Steve looked at the man with a confused expression. "What does fruit have to do with cell phones?"

The employee laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "You're real funny man." he said, smiling at Steve. "But seriously, do you prefer iPhones or Androids?"

"I...just want something with texting." Steve stammered out.

"Well of course!" the man laughed again. "What other reason is there for buying a cell phone?"

_'To make calls?' _Steve thought. _'I would think that was the main point of one. It is called a telephone'_

The AT&T guy led Steve over to the various rows of cell phones. He pointed to one with a glass screen. "This is our newest model of the iPhone." he explained excitedly. "It has 8 GB of storage space for all your pictures, music, and emails. You also get a high bandwith for your internet service, depending on the plan you get of course. You have a choice of 500 minutes to unlimited talking time, and of course a texting plan."

Steve had no idea what an email was, or how he would be able to get his records to fit inside that tiny thing, but he only cared about the texting part.

They continued to walk around as each phone was described to him until Steve stopped next to a small Nokia flip phone. He peered at it curiously. "What does this one do?"

The Nokia was sneered at. "Nothing special really. Basic talk and texting. It doesn't even have a qwerty keyboard, you have three letters on one button! And forget about trying to use the internet on that thing, you'd be there all day! That phone gives me awkward middle school flashbacks. Damn old fashioned dinosaur."

Ignoring the man's disdain, Steve looked at the phone fondly. Not only was it hundreds of dollars cheaper, it had what he was looking for, with none of the extra stuff he didn't need.

"I'll take this one." he said happily.

The salesman gawked. "What could you possibly like about that one? Like I said you'll never be able to surf the web with it."

"That's alright, I'm not a big fan of spiders." Steve said.

"Seriously?" The guy handed him the Nokia box and walked away shaking his head.

Walking up to the cash register, Steve ignored the odd looks and stifled giggles of the other customers browsing through the phones. He placed the Nokia on the counter, pulling out his SHIELD credit card to pay for it. The cashier handed him his receipt and told him to have a good day.

"Wait." Steve said hesitantly. "How do I use this?"

To his utter embarrassment, the cashier started laughing also. "You seriously don't know how to use a flip phone?" his voice was full of disbelief. "I had one of those when I was ten years old."

Steve fought the urge to put his baseball cap on, and pull the visor over his face as he left. Luckily he was stopped by an old man. "I can help you with that son." he offered, taking the phone from Steve's hand. "It's real simple once you get used to it. My daughter finally convinced me to get one after 70 years. I never needed it before, but it sure is convenient."

The kind man showed Steve how to place calls, add contacts, and text simple messages. Steve offered his thanks and shook the man's hand as he started to leave the AT&T. He was feeling a lot better, until the elderly man called after him and kindly told him that the web was a term used for the internet, it was a web of information. He also imputted his number in Steve's phone, offering to get a beer sometime.

Embarrassed with himself, Steve waved and opened the doors to the shop, dejectedly stepping outside.

Unbelievably thankful it was all over and he was now in possession of a texting device, he pulled out his wallet, retrieving the reciept Fiona had wrote her number on. He sat down on a bench, and slowly input it into his contacts. It wasn't easy, as he would push the keys too many times in a row, or not wait until the current letter was un-highlighted, but finally he was able to get the correct spelling of Fiona's name. It discouraged him a little, because if it took him that long to type five letters, how was he going to text? How long were these text things anyway? He sighed and checked the time in the right hand corner. It was 1 in the afternoon, so hopefully if he started his text now, he would finish before Fiona was getting ready for bed.

The crowds of pedestrians passed him with their shopping bags and frozen yogurt, as he sat there thumbing the buttons to form the message.

_hellofionahowareyoudoingiamwellwouldyoustillliketogotoartatthey._

After looking at it he sighed. Having forgotten to use the space key, he was left with one jumble of a word. He would have to start over. Resisting the urge to chuck the phone into the trash can across the street, he started again.

_hello fiona how are you doing i am well would you still like to go to art seminar at the y_

Pleased with himself, he pressed the send button and leaned back on the bench with a relieved sigh.

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Fiona sat on her couch, checking her twitter feed on her Mac. Her phone was playing Cult of Personality in the background and she bounced along with the beat. Giggling at her friends' antics, she began to post a reply to her friend Zoey's drunken selfie. As she was halfway through the tweet, the rock song stopped coming from her phone. She looked over and groaned when it was replaced by her annoying ringtone. Placing her hands on the cushions for support, she pushed herself up into a standing position, and shuffled across the room. Why did the outlet have to be all the way in the corner of the living room?

Bending down, she picked up her galaxy and smiled at the name coming across the screen. She pressed the green phone icon and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hi Sherm! Long time no talk!" she said excitedly.

"Hello Fiona! It's been too long. Just calling to see how everything is going. I trust your internship is satisfactory." the male voice replied.

Fiona twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers, biting her lip. "It's all right." she sighed. "We both know I've had much better though. The guy can barely tell an opening from a closing!" she laughed. "It's fine though. Just have to get through it, then one more semester, and bam, I'm a lawyer."

"I'm so proud of you hon. There's no doubt you'll be a complete success. Might even give me a run for my money." he joked.

"I doubt that!" Fiona said between giggles. "You're the top dog Sherm. Always have been."

"Listen there's another reason I called.." he hesitated. "I just want to make sure you're okay with...everything."

"Oh yeah, I'm totally fine. The papers are all set still ...right?" Fiona asked worriedly.

"Oh yes, iron clad. Don't you worry about a thing dear."

Fiona's phone started beeping. "Hey Sherm, I have to go, I'm getting a text."

"All right Fiona, it was so nice talking to you! Don't be a stranger. You can always call and say hi."

"WIll do Sherm, bye." Fiona smiled, pressing the end button.

She clicked on the little mail icon and noticed it was from an unfamiliar number.

_hello fiona how are you doing i am well would you still like to go to art seminar at the y_

She stared at the message quizically for a few minutes before guessing who it was. She hit reply, and started typing on the virtual keyboard.

_Is this Steve?_

Setting her phone down on the coffee table, she returned to twitter. Christina had gotten the cutest new dog. The adorable puggle was called Rita.

After ten minutes of scrolling her phone beeped again.

_Yes it is._

She giggled. Steve was so cute. Pulling up the website for the ymca she typed up a reply

_There's a workshop tomorrow at 1 pm. Does that work for you?_

This time the reply was instantaneous.

_Yes._

Still giggling, she texted back.

_Are we meeting up?_

The same reply came back

_Yes_

Fiona realized that this guy wasn't a big texter. Some people you could go back and forth with for hours, others barely gave you one word answers. Fiona wasn't disappointed though, it just meant hopefully she could talk to him face to face more often. She laid back on the couch, letting out a small squeal. She was so excited to see him. Of course convinced herself she was NOT developing a crush on him, and was just looking forward to having someone new to hang out with. There was no way she was going to go down the relationship road again.

She turned back to her laptop hiding a smile under her hand. She couldn't wait until tomorrow.

**A/N *shakes head* Who is Fiona kidding. Crush! I was hoping to get to the workshop this chapter, but you guys have waited long enough for an update. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. **


	5. I'm Not French, But Paint Me Anyway

**A/N So I've never actually been to an art workshop before, but I've seen scenes of them on tv, so I apologize in advance if this isn't exactly how one would go. I'm also not sure if they offer it at the Y, but they offer like everything at the Y so it's pretty likely.**

**Guest: Haha those phone people are going to wish they had been nicer once they realize who they had been serving. Thank you for your review. :)**

**Chapter 5: I'm not French but draw me anyway**

Fiona set one of her peep-toed heels out of her car as she grabbed the door for balance. She stepped out and shut the door behind her, feet clunking in the stilettos. So she had bought a new dress for this outing, complete with matching shoes. The pretty floral pattern had caught her eye while she was walking past the Bloomingdale's shop. She fell in love with it, and wanted to look nice. That's all. It had nothing to do with the attractive blonde she was meeting today. The new shoes weren't either. She simply saw them in the clearance bin on her way out and couldn't resist. The dress and shoes were too good to pass up and that was it. Fiona didn't dress up for anyone, especially someone she had just met. Nope, she just wanted to look good at all times. For herself.

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked up to the YMCA building. The outside was pretty disgusting, and she could barely find an inch of the structure without obscene graffiti sprayed over it. This was supposed to be a family place. Casting a disgusted look to some of the litter by the front door, she grabbed the handle and swung it open, stepping inside. The art workshop was being held down on the basement level in room 28. She looked around for an elevator, but to her dismay found none. The only thing this dump had were staircases. Sighing, she gripped the railing as she made the perilous trip down the stairs. Maybe the shoes weren't a good idea after all. She made it halfway down the stairs and stumbled, holding onto the railing for dear life. Luckily she was alone in the stairwell so there was no one to witness her clumsiness.

_'What was I thinking wearing these shoes?' _she berated herself. _'Steve is not going to be impressed if I'm stumbling around like a newborn deer.'_

Once she was down the horrible stairs she approached room 28. She looked into the small window on the door and noticed the back of Steve's head.

_'He's here already, I'm going to have to make a graceful but casual entrance.'_

Taking a deep breath, she entered the room, and walked over to the table Steve was sitting at putting a smile on her face.

"Hi Steve." she greeted brightly.

Steve's face lit up as he pushed the chair next to him out for her.

"You're just in time, the workshop's about to start."

"I think you were just ridiculously early." Fiona teased. "Besides, it's not as if you can be late for this sort of thing. You just show up, paint fruit, and leave."

Steve chuckled. "I'm just overly punctual. One of my habits."

"Well I'm the complete opposite. I struggle with being on time for things. My friends always like to tease me about my lateness. I hope that won't bother you." she said sheepishly.

_'She hopes it won't bother me!' _Steve thought happily. _'That means there will be other times like this.' _Steve could care less if she was a minute late or an hour as long as he got to see her. It was very comforting to have a friend in this foreign world.

'Attention everybody!" A voice spoke up from the front of the room. "For today's session we will be focusing on still life drawing." The old man at the front of the room placed three jugs on the table at the front. He then placed a couple of apples around them, and finished the display with a block of cheese. "This is your picnic scene you will be drawing. There are pencils, paints, crayons, charcoal, oil pastels, and markers avaibale for you to create your piece. He gestured to the side table with the supplies as he went to his desk to begin his own.

"What do you use for your art?" Fiona asked.

"Usually just pencil." Steve answered. When he was growing up, art supplies were scarce. He could barely afford pieces of paper to draw on, and sometimes drew on napkins, or the kitchen table. He always erased his doodles when he was finished, as he didn't want to ruin the furniture.

Fiona smiled, reaching into her purse. She procured two snowmen pencils and handed one to Steve.

"Hope you don't mind the designs. At least this way we don't have to get up."

Steve looked at the pencil curiously. He didn't know they made pencils with little animations on them. He shrugged and started using it to shade the paper.

Fiona giggled at him using the child's pencil and pulled out her phone, snapping a picture.

"Look at this picture." she said between giggles. "You look soo cute using that pencil."

Steve blushed and she realized what she said. Throwing her phone back in her black hole of a purse, she grabbed her own pencil and started furiously drawing.

Ten minutes later she looked over at Steve's paper to see almost a replica of the jugs, and one of the apples. Her own paper contained a roundish shape with a handle, and a polygon she couldn't identify. She had probably invented it. At least her apple looked slightly normal, although it looked more like the iPod symbol than the actual fruit.

She decided to give up on drawing the objects, and just color the picture she already had. It's not like she could screw up coloring. She stood up and turned to Steve.

"Want any supplies from the table?"

He shook his head, still looking at his paper. She nodded and walked over to the supplies, not wanting to disturb him while he was in the zone. She grabbed some colored pencils and crayons and went back to the table. Selecting a red colored pencil, she began filling in her iPod logo apple. She also used a green color to make the stem at the top. _'Not too shabby' _she thought. The jugs were another matter entirely. Deciding on a purple pencil for the unnamed polygon, she quickly shaded it. The roundish monstrosity was colored with a blue one.

Fully colored, her drawing was good as it was ever going to get, so Fiona turned her attention to Steve's work once more. He had almost the entire display copied onto his paper. It was immaculate, and Fiona thought it looked like someone had taken a picture of it and used the black and white filter on instagram. It was practically an exact copy.

"That's really good." she complimented him, resting her head in her palm.

Steve blushed. "It's really nothing special."

"Are you kidding! It looks like a damn photograph!" she argued.

Steve smiled and slid his paper over to her. "You can keep it if you want."

She looked at the drawing and smiled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Steve smiled back. "Can I see yours?"

Fiona grabbed the paper, and hid it under the table in her lap. "No way!" she shook her head. "You can't see it, it's awful."

"Come on I'm sure it's not so bad." Steve encouraged.

She slid the paper; still face down, over to Steve. He turned it over, giving her an encouraging smile. "It's really good."

She scoffed. "You're a horrible liar. I know its pretty bad."

Steve shook his head. "Not at all, I really like it. I was wondering if I could add it to my collection."

"What collection would that be?"

"Of autographed artwork to have when you become a famous author." he answered with a wink, sliding a pen over to her.

"You're serious?" she half laughed.

"Sure am."

Dying of laughter, she picked up the pen and once again signed a fancy _Fiona Evans _on the paper. When she handed it to Steve their hands brushed. Fiona briefly curled her pinky finger around his thumb before she could stop herself. Steve had an intense look in his eyes.

As Fiona stared into his baby blues she came to a horrible realization. _'Oh damn it, I caught feelings again._' She mentally facepalmed._ 'I cannot go down this road again_. _Besides it's not like he would ever like me back' _

They stayed locked in that position until the instructor snapped them out of the moment. "Okay everybody! Time to finish up."

Steve and Fiona both jumped. Steve almost toppled backwards in his chair, but managed to catch himself with his super soldier reflexes.

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_'That instructor has perfect timing.' _Steve thought to himself.

He didn't know how this happened. After he had woken up in this time, he believed he would never find anyone to bond with. Bucky was gone, and he couldn't imagine replacing the best friend he had since he could barely toddle. And he certainly never thought he would meet another dame after Peggy. She was special, one and a million, and he could never picture himself with anyone but her. It didn't help that most if the girls in this time were classless and rude. They walked around arrogantly with their barely there clothing, and were only interested in him for his looks and muscles. Steve would never get used to that, he still felt like the 90 pound asthmatic he spent most of his life as. Whenever one of the brash twenty first century girls would come on to him, he would look around to see if they were talking to somebody else. Nope, his chance for love and life had ended the minute he had crashed into the Arctic.

But then Fiona had come along, and turned his already messed up life upside down once again. He didn't know how or when it had happened. He had just met this girl, only talked to her a handful of times, but he felt that familiar feeling in his chest. It was the same feeling he had experienced when he watched Peggy hand that arrogant soldier's ass to him.

Against all the odds, against everything Steve had expected to happen, this girl was a beacon of hope for him. Maybe he could have the life he'd always wanted after all. To be accepted for who he was, loved unconditionally. Perhaps it wasn't a lost cause.

Steve had fallen for Fiona.

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After the instrutor had finished politely throwing them out, Steve and Fiona started walking towards the parking lot.

"Did you enjoy the workshop?" Fiona asked hopefully.

"Yes I did." Steve nodded. "Thank you for going with me."

_'The pleasure is all my cutie' _Fiona thought before groaning _'Ugh why do I feel this way. 'Stop that, brain!'_

"I'm glad nobody but you saw my picture. I think those poor artists would have gouged their eyes out." Fiona joked, trying to get her mind off the fuzzy feeling she had.

"I really do like it." Steve argued. To be honest Fiona could have dumped a can of paint on the paper and Steve would have loved it. The fact that Fiona did it made it amazing to him.

"Well thanks." she self consciously put her hair behind her ear. "I guess I should get going now. Unless.." her mouth spilled out the words before her cautious brain could process them "You want to come chill at my apartment. We could watch movies or something."

_'What!?' _she wanted to kick herself for embarassing herself like that. He would probably politely decline, and hurriedly excuse himself from the sitation.

"That would be swell!" Steve proclaimed. He didn't care if Fiona's apartment was cold, and they would be "chilling" he just wanted to spend more time with her. Hopefully he could sort out his feelings.

Fiona's face brightened. "Well great! Do you want to follow me or...?"

"I can do that. Just let me pull my bike around." Steve walked off..

_'What!?'_

An engine reved from behind the building as she watched Steve ride out on his motorcycle. She had definately had not been expecting that. She stood in front of her car for a good minute with her mouth hanging open before she finally got in and started driving to her apartment building, watching him in her rear view mirror as he weaved through traffic following her.

Pulling up to her complex she was still in shock. This guy was full of surprises apparently, He looked like a damn GQ model, rescued her when she was the damsel in distress, and rode around on a hog. She gave up trying to decipher him, and pulled her keys out of the ignition. Screeching to a stop beside her, Steve swung his leg over the seat, setting both feet on the ground. She didn't ogle his muscular legs or his butt as he got off his motorcycle, she just did not.

She stayed a few steps ahead of him, hoping he hadn't noticed her checking him out and fumbled with the keys as she tried to unlock the door.

"Want a soda or something?" she called over her shoulder, as she tossed her purse on the formica.

" A cola would be nice." he answered.

Fiona swung open the fridge door, pushing some "refreshing malt beverages" aside, and grabbed two bottles of coke. She handed one to Steve and felt an electric shock as their hands brushed again. Damn it.

"Want to watch tv?" she declared loudly, speed walking to the couch.

"Sure." Steve walked over to the couch, sitting next to her. Unfourtately as he went to sit down, he tripped over an empty ding dong box and face planted on the cushion. As he did this a small pad fell out of his jacket pocket.

Fiona giggled. "Sorry about that. I haven't really had time to clean this pigsty." she looked to the notebook on the floor. "What's that?"

"My sketchpad." Steve answered, his mouth muffled by the cushion. He was too embarassed to get up just yet.

Curiously, Fiona picked it up and began looking through the sketches. A few were of the city; buildings, scenery, the scarce flora and fauna. Others were of people in the city doing mundane things like drinking coffee, or working on their laptops. She was impressed, these sketches were immaculately detailed.

"These are really amazing." she complimented.

"Thank you." Steve was touched by her compliment. He wasn't sure if he was any good or not, he just enjoyed the hobby.

He was snapped out of his calm mood when Fiona had flipped to a particular sketch. "Um, is this a sketch of...me?"

Steve's heart stopped. He had completely forgotten that was in there. He had drawn it after they had gotten back from the ice cream shop. He couldn't get her face out of his head, and decided to draw her. He was worried she would think he was a pervert, or a stalker and throw him out of her apartment, cutting ties with him. The expression on her face was unreadable, and Steve could swear he felt an asthma attack coming on even though he couldn't get those anymore. Suddenly he felt Fiona's hand cover his on the couch, as her face came up to meet his, locking their lips together.


End file.
